Look, I know in every generation they think its always getting worse than it was (which is rarely backed up by the data),
But I'm curious, does everyone else here feel like the insanity is growing? Or do ya'll think the issue is we're simply becoming more aware of all the insanity that has been laying under the surface all this time.
Or do ya'll think its all just the same shit different day and not much has changed?
For me in my lifetime, some of this stuff really seems to be more out there than I ever would have imagined possible.
About the word 'race' and its definition..was it coined by Karl Marx?
You're quite right, just like we're still fighting the fucking crusades for Christians, a stupid holy war that's been going on hundreds of years now.
You're not crazy, it's getting crazier.
Forgive the few religious references. This vision by Yeats seems appropriate here.
|The Second Coming|
|Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight; somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
|Printings: The Dial (Chicago), November 1920; The Nation (London), 6 November 1920; Michael Robartes and the Dancer (Dundrum: Cuala, 1921); Later Poems (London: Macmillan, 1922; 1924; 1926; 1931).|
Nice - thanks for posting.
I think we can forgive W.B. his religious references. He was a card-carrying member of the Golden Dawn occult society. Synchronistically I was just reading Paul Watzlawick, who referred to a "vague concept of order which, depending on the reader's philosophical preference, may be called reality, nature, fate or God.
At least now maybe we know the answer to Yeats's question What rough beast . . . slouches toward Bethlehem to be born? Who knew it would be an orange Orangutan?.
Yep, Trumpigula certainly has the potential.....